


Pieces of Forever

by leet911



Category: Popular (TV)
Genre: F/F, Ficlet Collection, LiveJournal Prompt, SamBrookeIsOTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-31
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leet911/pseuds/leet911
Summary: My collection of Sam/Brooke mini fics.The day Sam started being honest with herself was the day she started lying to Brooke.
Relationships: Sam McPherson/Brooke McQueen
Kudos: 12





	1. Of Pigskin and Mountaintops

**Author's Note:**

> This is from the SamBrookeIsOTP LiveJournal community back in the day (2008). Prompts were given out once a week, and I did them pretty regularly for a few months.

* * *

_Prompt: Heights_

**Solitude**

Brooke wakes alone in their tent. It's mid-morning, but the sky is dark; she can hear the pitter-patter of drops on the fabric overhead. Lazily, she puts on her shoes and grabs a raincoat, pads out into the light summer rain.

Her parents are camped out under a large tree, trying to make breakfast without getting wet. She can see Sam a little further up the trail, out by the cliff.

Sam doesn't turn when Brooke approaches. She sits cross-legged in the mud with her clothes soaked through. Her eyes are guarded and looking out over the edge.

The mountains are majestic, even in the rain. From far away, they don't look imposing at all, even though the truth is very different. They're wide and sombre, tall and unmoving, callous and capped with snow.

Sam shivers. Brooke crouches next to her. "Are you cold?"

Yes. No. Not from the rain. "No."

"What do you see out there, Sam?"

"Solitude." They've been camping three days now, but the rain hasn't stopped yet. She's had plenty of time to think about it.

Brooke leans close, and Sam shivers again, eyes suddenly fixed on her stepsister. It's raining all around them, cold and wet, but Brooke is here, and Brooke is warm. Brooke is a lot of other things too - shining eyes, smooth skin, and long blonde hair. Brooke is gentle and bright and kind.

When she speaks, Sam watches the words appear. She watches soft pink lips dripping with rainwater, and she has to clench her jaw to keep from kissing them.

"Why are you sitting in the rain, Sam?"

Because sometimes, she thinks that if it rains hard enough, it just might make her clean again.

* * *

_Prompt: Cliffs_

**Cliffdiving**

"Why are you doing this?"

Sam doesn't answer, pushes past Brooke and up the stairs.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

She's at the top when Brooke catches her, spins her around.

"Why are you like this?"

She tries to slip away, but Brooke pins her against the wall.

"Why won't you even talk to me?"

Sam's never jumped off a cliff before, but she thinks this must be what it feels like; because she's kissing Brooke, and it's just like falling. It's like tumbling through the air – exhilarating, free, and a little bit scary. Because even though a mile of free-fall is harmless, the stop at the end isn't.

So when they finally pull apart, after a minute of falling, Sam looks away, afraid that the ending just might kill her. But there's only Brooke, with trembling hands and a quiet voice. "Kiss me again."

Sam does, and the ground beneath disappears along with her imaginary cliff. It's just Brooke and her, falling, and she wishes it'll never end.

* * *

_Prompt: Football_

**Fourth and Goal**

Sam and Mike are in the kitchen when Brooke comes home. "How'd it go?" Her father asks.

Brooke drops her bag by the door, eyes their snacks before speaking. "Kennedy has the ball. Two seconds left, five points down, fourth and goal. Six inches, maybe." She collapses into a chair. "George got sacked."

Sam doesn't know what Brooke's talking about, and Mike already looks appropriately concerned, so she turns towards the ice cream instead. She went to a game once, but didn't learn anything and hated it. She hated herself for being one of those people, the ones who go to football games just to watch the cheerleaders. She's never understood football, or cheerleading for that matter, but she does know losing, and that there's no pain that ice cream can't numb.

So when Brooke sits down there's a bowl waiting for her – cold, creamy, and chocolate. There's a crooked smile, and Sam wishing she could take Brooke's hands and kiss the sadness away.

* * *

_Prompt: Cheer_

**Gridiron Limelight**

Brooke hates it when Sam comes to the game. Because while Brooke might be able to fool the rest of the crowd with smiling cartwheels in short skirts, she knows that Sam sees right through her. Sam makes her feel like the field is empty and that it's just the two of them staring across the open air. Sam makes her feel like cheering is stupid, that cheers are somehow shallow and cheesy. Which they probably are, in addition to being popular and catchy.

So when Brooke sits down again, after the cheer, she tries very hard not to look at the long dark hair in the last row of the stands. And she'll never admit it, but she thinks that Sam is pretty, funny, smart, and unique; whereas she herself, is just cheering. Because Brooke is eyes-wide jaw-dropped tongue-tied heart-stopped staring, and Sam is beautiful without trying.

* * *

_July 2008_


	2. Of Accidents and Automobiles

* * *

_Prompt: Story_

**Fairytales**

Sam's run out of stories to tell Brooke.

She's already gone through every book either of them owns. They're stacked in neat piles by the hospital bed, next to Brooke's collections of Seventeen and CosmoGirl. She also has her mom's copy of War and Peace in her bag, but she's decided Tolstoy might be a little heavy for comatose teenagers. She'd tried the magazine racks in every waiting room too, but all they had were back issues of Healthy Living or Home Improvement. She doesn't think Brooke would be interested in those.

So she'd "borrowed" some books from the pediatrics department instead. And Sam finds it terribly ironic to be reading Cinderella, because, after all, Brooke's supposed to be the spiteful stepsister. But maybe reading stories out loud is more for herself than for Brooke. Maybe she just needs something to keep the despair at bay, something other than the rhythmic beeps of the heart monitor and the constant whir of the ventilator.

Because there's one story she really should tell Brooke, even though she knows she never will. It's the story that plays out in her dreams, the one that reads like a fairytale even though it isn't, the one where Sleeping Beauty is a cheerleader and her saviour is a dark-haired maiden.

"Please wake up, Brooke."

* * *

_Prompt: Breaking_

**Broken**

Breaking is all Brooke's known for most of her life - broken family, broken spirit, broken bones. She remembers growing up alone with only her father, starving herself down trying to be impossible, running into the road and having a car crush her. And so Brooke thought she knew breaking; she thought she knew heartbreak when she really didn't.

Because even now that her bones are all mended, her bruises all healed, and she can finally walk again, she still feels broken inside. She feels broken every time Sam laughs or smiles, every time Sam waves at her but talks to Harrison instead. Broken is something she's become intimately familiar with.

So when Sam barges into their bathroom without knocking one night, Brooke only looks away. Many retorts come to mind, but none leave. Instead, she goes back to brushing her hair, gazing at the mirror, and trying not to see the thin scar that runs along her jaw.

"I broke up with Harrison."

Sam's words are quiet and firm, a simple statement of fact. Brooke's reply is nervous and unsteady.

"Why?"

There's no answer. There's just Sam's lips pressing against hers, and suddenly, Brooke thinks she can feel the broken shards of her life start coming back together.

* * *

_Prompt: Caring_

**Always Approval**

"I like your shirt," Brooke says, and Sam smiles inside, looks away.

"Thanks," she responds offhandedly, pretending not to care.

And if you asked Sam, she would say that it's always been like this, that she's always hated herself for caring, for needing Brooke's approval. It's been this way since they first bumped into each other all those years ago, even though she didn't understand it then. So she thought that maybe if Brooke wasn't beautiful and popular, maybe if she wasn't head cheerleader or homecoming queen, maybe if Sam tore her down, then her opinion wouldn't matter.

But nothing's changed, because Brooke isn't any of those things anymore (except for beautiful, she'll always be beautiful) and Sam finds herself still caring.

* * *

_Prompt: Cancer_

**Dissonant Signs**

Sam is creative and caring, sensitive and sincere. Sam is devious, and determined, and loyal, and a hundred other things that shouldn't matter but Brooke can't stop thinking about them. She can't stop thinking about Sam.

Because she's read all the books, and she knows it can't possibly work. She's a Leo, and Sam's a Cancer. It's fire and water; it explains all the arguments, all the fights, all the quips and schemes and glares. It explains everything, except the way her heart beats faster every time they see each other.

So when Brooke gets home that day and Sam is waiting for her, she can't help the sweaty palms and shaky voice. She stands just inside the door, wiping her hands against her pants and trying to find the words. Nothing comes to mind though. All she can think of are Sam's shy eyes and quiet smile, her nervous fingers and wildly arrayed hair.

Neither speaks when Sam steps closer, takes Brooke's hands and leans forward to press their lips together. There's just eyes closing and a shared breath, overloaded senses and a random question when it's finally over.

"Do you believe in astrology?"

"No."

And that's good enough for Brooke.

* * *

_Prompt: DUI_

**Driver's Seat**

Sam is sitting in the driver's seat, but only in the literal sense, because Brooke is the one leaning across the car. Brooke is the one holding her against the seat and crushing their mouths together.

They haven't left the driveway yet, and Sam is dimly aware that this is not a good idea. It can't be a good idea to be making out with her stepsister just outside their house, but she can't get herself to stop. She can't get her head to stop spinning, her hands to stop shaking, her skin to stop tingling.

And Sam's never really been drunk before, but she's heard lots of stories, so she thinks this might be what it's like. Because her mouth can't seem to form the words her brain should know, she's light-headed in a rollercoaster kind of way, and she's absolutely sure she wouldn't be able to walk a straight line right now.

"We should go somewhere," Brooke says between kisses, "before they wonder why we're still here."

Sam is barely breathing. "I don't think I can drive like this."

* * *

_August 2008_


	3. Of Friendship and Punishments

* * *

_Prompt: Jail_

**Cruel and Unusual**

Neither of them had ever thought their parents could be so unreasonable: grounded until graduation, no leaving for school or coming home together, no interaction allowed at home. As if keeping them apart would somehow change this.

And with Brooke no longer cheering, it means she can't hang around after class, so they only get to see each other during the school day. Sometimes, Brooke feels so trapped it reminds her of when she was in lockup. Sam lies in bed every night and thinks she would die if it weren't for e-mail and instant messaging. Because even though they're together every day at school, they can't be themselves there either. Classrooms and halls are filled with students and teachers, more people who certainly wouldn't approve. Recess is a few scant minutes, hardly enough for a handful of words, a hopeful smile, and a desperate handhold shielded from the prying eyes of others.

That leaves only lunchtime, when neither of them really eats anymore. They sit in the empty stands by the field instead, hold onto each other and cry softly for all the injustice in the world.

"It's only a few months before we leave for college."

* * *

_Prompt: Cliques_

**Not Quite Friends**

Brooke doesn't have a clique anymore, and she knows exactly how it happened. Things changed when she quit cheerleading, when Josh went and got married, when Nicole tried to run her over. It doesn't help that she almost died that night, the same night she ran from the one person who might have actually liked her for who she was and not who she wanted to be.

Six months in a hospital, four of them unconscious, and when she woke up Sam was the only friend she had left. Sam was the one who brought her toys, and flowers, and books to read, and things to study so she wouldn't fall too far behind in school. Sam was the one who stayed to play cards with her even after visiting hours were over, the one who sat with her through all the sleepless nights, the one who finally got her to stop pretending and just get better.

So graduation's two weeks away, and Brooke knows she's never going to look back. Because sometimes she's glad they don't have the same friends they used to, that there are no more cliques now. At lunch, it's only her and Sam – holding hands beneath the table – and Brooke finds she doesn't mind this at all.

* * *

_Prompt: Library_

**Silent Sanctuary**

Sam's decided it's safest in the library. There's no talking in here, and if she shows up to class just on time and leaves right at the bell, maybe she won't have to talk to Brooke at all. Because it's the talking part that's the problem. Sam can handle herself in class. She has an excuse then. It's the little bits before and after that she has trouble with: recess, lunch, after school.

That's why the library is safe. Here, Brooke isn't always around, and even when she is there's no talking. Here, Sam has an infinite supply of someone else's words to lose herself in. But out there, Brooke's smiling and laughing. Out there, Brooke says things she doesn't really mean but Sam desperately wants to hear, things like "we're good together" or "I'll always think of you".

So Sam hides in the library because she has to. And it feels weak sometimes, but she knows if she keeps listening to Brooke, she'll end up doing something she can't take back.

* * *

_Prompt: Bedroom_

**Delicate**

Until prom night, Sam had never thought of Brooke as delicate. Beautiful maybe, stubborn definitely, but not delicate. Because while Brooke could be insecure on occasion, she was also polemic and fierce and not at all fragile. So it was scary, seeing Brooke lying on the road in a torn dress with blood pooling around her and sirens wailing in the background.

Brooke had looked delicate then, as the paramedics lifted her into the ambulance, trailing an assortment of bloody equipment. She had seemed fragile when Sam saw her again, through the glass windows of the ICU. And when Brooke finally woke, the fragility didn't disappear. Sam remembers the wheelchairs, and therapy sessions, and crutches and canes.

So even now, months later, when she sneaks into Brooke's bedroom late at night, her breath stops. The blonde is lying there – delicate – curled up in blankets, and for one agonizing moment, Sam thinks Brooke won't ever wake up. Then she's moving, reaching out to the bed and shaking a shoulder because she has to know.

When Brooke's eyes open, Sam's close, and it's only then that her heart starts again. It's only then that she realizes her hands are shaking and Brooke's arms are trying to hold her steady. And Sam's grateful, that Brooke never seems to mind the disturbance, even if it's four nights in a row. She's grateful, that all Brooke ever does, is pull her into bed and wrap the sheets around them.

"It's ok, Sam. I'm here."

* * *

_September 2008_


	4. Of Masks and Salutations

* * *

_Prompt: Goodbye_

**This Is Not Goodbye**

Dates with Sam are a little strange. There are no goodbyes, no nervous moments on the front steps, no final words before turning away. Sure, Sam lets go of Brooke's hand when they enter the house, but she takes it right back as soon as they're upstairs and out of the parents' view.

"Goodnight," Sam says, when they're outside Brooke's room, and even though she leans in for a kiss, they both know this isn't goodbye. Brooke watches Sam's door close before slumping against the wall and biting her lip.

They're in pyjamas minutes later, standing side by side, brushing their teeth and trying not to stare at each other's reflection in the mirror. Brooke knows their date is over, but it doesn't feel that way to her. She grabs Sam's hand when they're both done, pulls her close and crushes their mouths together again.

The other kiss was for the date. This one is just for being here, because Brooke still remembers the first time they went out, remembers the smell of Sam's hair, the taste of her smile. Brooke remembers wishing it could be first dates forever.

With Sam, she has exactly that. Their lives are so entwined that the dates never really end, one just flows endlessly into the next. For them, there are no goodbyes, and Brooke thinks she likes it.

* * *

_Prompt: Hello_

**Day Two**

Brooke is trying very hard not to think about yesterday.

Yesterday, Brooke got home to find Sam waiting for her. They'd promised that they would study together, but Sam hadn't had studying on her mind. Yesterday, everything changed, and Brooke discovered exactly what she and Sam really were to each other. If it wasn't for Brooke insisting they needed to study, they would have never stopped making out.

But that was yesterday, and Brooke is not supposed to be thinking about that. She's supposed to be thinking about chemistry, about stoichiometry and oxidation-reduction, because there's a test starting in two minutes and she needs to concentrate. She shouldn't be dreaming about dark hair and shining eyes, even if they haven't seen each other all day.

Still, when Sam does walk in, Brooke can't help the smile that spreads across her face. Sam sits down, smiles back, and Brooke's mouth is suddenly dry. Everything's different now.

"Hey."

Sam says hello like nothing's changed. Brooke forgets to keep breathing.

* * *

_Prompt: Face_

**Dreams of Forever**

Brooke has many faces, and Sam's seen them all. There's the one she puts on every morning before school, the flawless one she washes off at night. Sam doesn't like that one much. There's the face Brooke has for their parents. That one's fun and happy, completely adolescent, and not at all honest either. Sam knows those faces aren't for her.

Because late at night, when it's just Brooke and her, Sam knows all the masks are off and everything they see is true. In the dark, Brooke looks small and scared, every bit as nervous as Sam. Her eyes close when the brunette leans near, but their lips stop a whisper apart. Sam pauses, takes in the blonde hair and shaking hands, the ragged breaths and flushed face.

This is the real Brooke, the one that only shows when they're alone, the one for which Sam would give anything just to be around. This Brooke is simple, and beautiful, and so damn perfect that every time she smiles Sam dreams of forever.

* * *

_Prompt: Space_

**Interstitial Thoughts**

Ever since the accident, Brooke has learned to live every single moment of her life, not just the ones that stand out. Because the quiet bits - the spaces in between - are just as important as all the rest. Even now, in the stillness before dawn, Brooke is awestruck by first light creeping into the window, wandering across the bed to Sam's sleeping form.

The brunette doesn't stir, not when the sun climbs high enough to reach her face, not even when Brooke leans close and kisses her neck lightly. There's just the rise and fall of the sheets, constant and rhythmic. Brooke's hands slide underneath and encircle Sam's body. She places her head next to Sam's, breathes in dark curls splayed out on the pillow, and closes her eyes once more.

This space is calm and gentle, timeout from nagging questions and persistent doubts. In this early morning pause, there's only Brooke's arms around Sam's warmth, and the world beyond their room doesn't exist.

* * *

_October 2008_


	5. Of Ice and Disagreements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going through files on my computer and I found some stuff from 12 years ago that was never completed or posted. Because it was kind of fun to go back into this world and read Sam/Brooke stories again, I got it in me to finally finish them. So here we are.
> 
> The first 3 drabbles were written in November 2008 and posted to the SamBrookeIsOTP LiveJournal community, and just never made it into any archive anywhere. The last 2 are the same weekly prompts from that month, but I never actually finished them until the last couple of days (January 2020).

* * *

_Prompt: Heater_

**Cold**

Brooke can't remember exactly how she got here, but she's never felt this alive before. She's bleeding into the road, the night air is cool against her face, and the world around her is so perfectly focused the sharpness almost blinds her.

There's a car horn sounding in the distance, along with a hurried chatter of conversation. Somewhere nearby there's a scream, and Brooke thinks it might be Sam, but her face is pointed skyward and her head refuses to move. Strangely, there's no pain. There's only the cold, seeping through the asphalt and past her ragged dress. She feels light too, like the softest breeze could lift her away, yet she can't make herself stand.

"Brooke!" It is Sam. "Does it hurt?"

Brooke can't answer, can't even shake her head, but now that Sam's here, she doesn't need to. There are hands running over her, looking for injuries, and every touch is like an open flame.

The brunette is in view now, shaking mouth and tears running down her face. Far above, twinkling points of light surround Sam's head like some dancing halo. And a lone star shoots across the sky, but it’s prom night and Sam is already here with her, so Brooke doesn't need any wishes. Even the cold is fading. Instead, she closes her eyes, sinks into Sam's arms, and turns towards the warmth.

“Please don’t die, Brooke.”

* * *

_Prompt: High_

**Mood Swings**

Early morning, and Sam's fuming. Brooke's hogging the bathroom, they’re both shouting over the sound of the shower, and Sam's never been more excited in her life. When the door finally opens, Brooke smiles; and Sam's heart flutters, but she doesn't think about that as she pushes past the blonde.

Because of Brooke, Sam's late to school that day. When she gets there, class has already started and she has to sneak to her desk. Brooke is chatting with Josh, Nicole hovering nearby, and Sam can't help the sinking feeling in her stomach. She tries not to think about that either, because they're not even friends, so it shouldn't matter anyway.

At lunchtime, they cross paths in the hall, and Sam can't look away. Brooke's eyes sparkle, and Sam is sky high. She doesn't understand this at all. Part of her hates the mood swings, hates that her own temperament is somehow tied to Brooke's mercurial one.

So it's not really her fault that she makes a sarcastic remark about Brooke's hair. Sam's never stopped to ponder why fights are exhilarating, why she says things sometimes just to get a rise out of Brooke. Because she's happy, in a twisted kind of way, when Brooke's focus is completely on her. Sometimes, when their faces are inches apart yelling at the top of their lungs, the words roll right by and Sam feels like she's flying.

* * *

_Prompt: Jump_

**Waiting on the Edge**

To Sam, it feels like she's been waiting all her life to make this leap. The timing just never seemed right. First there was Josh, and Harrison; then George, and Harrison again; and then Nicole's drunken rage. And even after all that was behind them, they ended up rooming together through college, and that would've been way too awkward.

Now they're both grown up and out living their lives. It's Thanksgiving weekend and Mac's gone off with their parents to the store. It's only the two of them, alone in this house that used to be home, staring over the dining table that was the battleground for so many arguments.

Sam is the first to move, to get Brooke a chair, because she knows Brooke's hip hurts if she stands too long. "Thank you," the blonde says, and just the force of her smile is almost enough to make Sam jump.

This shouldn’t be hard. Because even though they don’t actually see each other often, they still talk every other day. They talk about anything and everything, except for boyfriends and why neither of them ever has one anymore. Lately, they talk a lot about love too, but only in vague non-specific terms.

So when Brooke takes her hand, Sam stops thinking and steps off the edge. She closes her eyes because it’s too scary to watch. When their lips meet, it’s not explosive or earth-shattering, just quiet – gentle – and nothing like either of them imagined.

  
  
  


* * *

_Prompt: Snow_

**Ordinary Lies**

The day that Sam started being honest with herself was the day she started lying to Brooke.

Sam doesn’t like lying. She understands that sometimes lies can be necessary, but she still thinks it’s better to avoid them out of principle. That’s why she’s not sure how it’s so easy lying to Brooke in this case, because she wants to tell the truth. She wants to tell very much. It’s just that the truth is embarrassing, and maybe a little scary, so she pretends she’s justified in lying.

“Why are you going to Michigan?” Brooke thought they would go to the same college. They’re supposed to be friends now, right?

“I think I’d like the snow,” Sam lies. And she can’t be Brooke’s friend, because she wishes it were so much more.

  
  


* * *

_Prompt: Thanks_

**Everyday Kisses**

They've never talked about the kissing, not to each other, and definitely not to anyone else. Not even when it started happening more and more often. Sometimes, one of them would say something particularly witty, or nice, and there was always a quick peck to follow it. The first time that Brooke managed to stand on her own, Sam was so giddy she kissed her until Brooke’s legs almost gave out from the strain.

After that, the new school year started, and Sam wasn’t around the hospital as much. She still visited every day though, and they would sit together in the evening to work on Sam’s homework. Every night, before leaving, Sam would make sure Brooke had something to do the next day, then brush their lips together gently. “Goodnight, Brooke.”

By the time November rolled around, the doctors told Brooke she could be home for Thanksgiving. She’d have crutches, of course, and the wheelchair just in case, but they could send her home as soon she was able to move short distances. Still, the prospect was a little scary. Here in the hospital, she and Sam had something untouchable. Because even among all the doctors and nurses and occasional visits from others, most of the time, it felt like it was just the two of them, alone in the world.

So it was Brooke’s last night in the hospital when she finally cracked, gave in and talked about something of consequence for the first time in weeks. Sam sat beside her, leaning on Brooke’s shoulder and playing with her fingers. Their parents were waiting downstairs for Sam, and they would all be back the next morning to take Brooke home.

“Goodnight Brooke,” Sam said, like she always did, before getting up and smoothing down Brooke’s hair. 

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens tomorrow? Do things just go back to the way they were before?” Part of her was afraid of the answer, afraid that everything that had happened since she’d woken up was a dream, a timeout from the world before they went back to just being friends, or worse yet, fighting. She tried to turn away when Sam hesitated, but the hands on her shoulders were insistent.

“Do you think they could?”

“No.”

“Do you want them to?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Brooke could only nod at that, her mouth suddenly dry, but Sam went ahead and pressed their lips together anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Brooke.”

* * *

_November 2008 - January 2020_


End file.
